


lemon cakes & lethargy

by sanzuh



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon, Sansa Stark is Queen in the North, Sort Of, ahum, different take on Jon's "exile", matchmaker Arya
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:53:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28568034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanzuh/pseuds/sanzuh
Summary: Written for the Jonsa New Year Drabble Event, Day 1: ResolutionsLord Stark of the Gift comes to Winterfell to visit his Queen.Background information: Instead of sending him back to the Watch, Sansa gives Jon the Stark name and puts him in charge of helping the Free Folk and other refugees settle in the Gift.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 30
Kudos: 86
Collections: Jonsa New Year Drabbles





	lemon cakes & lethargy

"Lord Stark of the Gift, Your Grace," the maid announces as Jon enters Sansa's bedchamber. It's been years since she granted him the name and the title, but he's still not used to it. This might be partly due to the fact that the people he's dealing with on a daily basis care preciously little for names and titles.

Sansa is lying in her bed, propped up against an array of pillows, dressed in a velvety green bed robe. Her auburn hair flows freely down her shoulders, and once again he is reminded that his memory of her never does her justice. Or perhaps she is just becoming more beautiful over time. Her face lights up when her eyes find him. "Jon!" she exclaims. "How good of you to come and visit me on the first day of the new year!"

"Sansa," he addresses her as he walks over to stand by the left side of the bed. A tray filled with a plate of lemon cakes and a jug of hippocras sits on the mattress next to her, and books are scattered all over the furs.

"Is everything all right? Are you ill?" She looks perfectly fine to him, more than that, she looks radiant, all soft and relaxed as she lies there.

She picks up a couple of books and pats the space next to her. His eyes flit around the room, but they're alone. He climbs onto the bed and stares at her, waiting for an answer. 

"I am perfectly fine, Jon," she tells him, taking his hand and squeezing it before she releases it again, her eyes flickering to the far corner of the room. 

"Sansa, it's almost noon. Why are you still in bed, drinking and eating cakes, and reading books?" he adds, when he watches her pick up the book that was lying in her lap.

"Arya told me that the Braavosi make resolutions on the first day of the new year," she answers without looking up from the page. "This is my new year's resolution."

She is speaking in riddles now. "I met Lord Cerwyn on the way up here," he remembers. "He seemed to think you forgot about a meeting you were supposed to have this morning?"

"I didn't forget. Lord Cerwyn can wait," she mumbles around a mouthful of lemon cake.

"Sansa," he insists. "Will you tell me what is going on?"

She pushes her shoulders back to sit up more properly. "I'm taking a break from being queen;"

"You can't take a break from-from being queen," he blurts out.

She tilts her chin up. "As you can see, I absolutely can."

He crosses his arms in front of his chest. "But why?"

She waves a piece of lemon cake around as she rolls her eyes. "Because I deserve a break. Do you have any idea what it's like? It never ends. As soon as I rise in the morning, it starts, and it doesn't end until the moment my head hits the pillow again. And even then, I still dream about petitions and taxes and land disputes!"

"I understand," he whispers, bracing himself on his elbow to lie down next to her, reaching out to cover the hand lying on her stomach with his own. "But isn't this just making it worse? You've got all your work piling up and it will seem that much more difficult to tackle when you get back to it."

She shakes her head. "I am aware of that, Jon. But I need to rest."

He frowns. "There must be another way to lighten your burden."

"Well," she says slowly, chewing on a bit of lemon cake, "I suppose there _is_ an alternative." She places her hand on top of his and sighs. "I could find a husband who is willing to share my duties."

"No," he growls before he can stop himself. "You said you never wanted to wed again," he adds hastily when he sees her quirked eyebrow.

"That is true," she admits, staring at the far corner of the room, "but I'm afraid I don't have a choice."

"But what if this husband of yours doesn't treat you right?" he objects. "What if he tries to usurp your crown?"

She shakes her head with a soft smile on her lips. "He wouldn't."

His heart sinks into his stomach. "You've already chosen one? Who is he?"

To his surprise she laughs and reaches up to brush a stray curl from his temple. "You, of course, you dolt."

He gulps. "M-me?"

"If you agree, that is," she points out, tilting her head.

"I do," he tells her, licking his lips.

The grin that lights up her face almost takes his breath away. "Now, are you going to kiss me or do I have to do everything myself?"

"Wait!" a familiar voice calls out from the far corner of the room. Arya emerges from behind the screen that partitions off part of the room and bounces onto the bed to pull them both into a hug.

"Hold that thought! No kissing when I'm around! My poor eyes have seen enough," she implores them as she scoots back. Lowering herself onto the floor, she arches an eyebrow at Sansa, whose cheeks are flushed a deep red. "Told you it would work!"

When she's almost at the door, she flicks her wrist, giving them a dismissive wave of her hand. "Carry on!" she instructs them.


End file.
